


So Sweet My Mouth Was Seared

by larkscape



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pet Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 13:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12727125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larkscape/pseuds/larkscape
Summary: “Deliver me from this sappy bullshit,” Yuri groaned into his hands. “…Call himlapochka.Ormoyo zolotse.I hate everything about this conversation.”Yuuri wants to learn Russian for Victor.





	So Sweet My Mouth Was Seared

**Author's Note:**

> Pure, unadulterated fluff. Title from Soul Coughing again because I have a fixation. I did my best with the Russian, but let me know if I screwed it up.

 

“Deliver me from this sappy bullshit,” Yuri groaned into his hands. “…Call him _lapochka._ Or _moyo zolotse._ I hate everything about this conversation.”

Yuuri mouthed it a couple times, trying to wrap his tongue around the pronunciation. “Ma- _yoo_...  _zo_ -lut-zeh?”

“Yeah, sure, just go away now, I want to die.”

 _“Moyo zolotse._ Okay. Thank you, Yurio!”

“I never want to hear you say those words ever again,” Yuri said, seething. “If I hear you sweet-talking him in public I will gouge out my eardrums and it will be all your fault.”

At the end of their morning practice, Yuuri found a sheet of binder paper tucked into his skate bag. It was covered in Russian words in Cyrillic followed by their English transliterations and meanings, phrases like ‘miliy moy - my sweet’ and ‘solnyshko - my sun’ in Yuri’s terrible penmanship. Yuuri tried to thank him, but Yuri growled, shoved his hand in Yuuri’s face, and stomped away, complaining loudly to the air about how disgusting _some people_ are about their stupid fiancés.

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri murmured, and then again, “Vitya.” Victor had turned to liquid, puddled against Yuuri, dropping kisses like rainfall over his cheeks.

 _“Moyo zolotse,”_ Yuuri whispered. Victor went perfectly still.

Yuuri drew back slowly, hesitant. “Did I... did I say it right?”

Victor tackled him onto his back on the couch with great enthusiasm. “Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri,” he chanted, working his fingers under Yuuri’s shirt, _“zaychik,_ my precious cabbage, where, _how_ did you...”

“Well, you’re always calling me cute names and I wanted to—” Yuuri cut off with a cry that trailed into a pleased hum when Victor’s teeth closed on his neck. “But, ah, I didn’t know any Russian ones so I asked Yurio for help.”

Victor paused in his assault on Yuuri’s pants to stare at him, wide-eyed. “Please, Yuuri, _please_ tell me he got so flustered he turned purple.” He broke into a beatific smile. “Was there screaming?”

“Not quite _screaming,_ but he yelled a lot,” Yuuri said, laughing, “and then he wrote me a whole page of translated phrases and left it in my skate bag.”

Victor’s smile grew, somehow, even brighter. “He is _so cute.”_

_“Right?”_

They grinned stupidly at each other for a moment. Then Yuuri rocked his hips. “You know what else is cute?”

“What else is cute, _lyubov moya?”_ Victor asked, his voice sliding down to a pitch Yuuri could feel rumbling where their chests pressed together.

“Oh, I know that one! It was on the list.”

“Focus, Yuuri. I want to know what else is cute.”

“Mmm.” Yuuri let his voice drop, too, and rocked his hips again. “It’s cute when you finish what you start, _lyubov moya.”_

Victor pounced on him mouth-first.

 

That afternoon, Yuuri walked into Madame Baranovskaya’s studio with a luminous collection of hickeys all across his right shoulder and up the side of his neck that no shirt could camouflage. He’d barely managed to tame the sex hair, but he couldn’t seem to wipe the besotted grin off his face.

Madame Baranovskaya lifted an eyebrow in a prim and silent reprimand. Yuri came in, took one look at him, and walked right back out of the studio.

 


End file.
